


Reaper's Toil

by RoyGraves



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyGraves/pseuds/RoyGraves
Summary: Rhea Mauk has always thought she'd have a long live, with kids, a husband, and everything a normal woman may want, but after learning she only has a few years to live, her priorities change. In an effort to let her brother and his wife live their lives without worrying about her health, Rhea decides to move to Alaska for treatments.Her brother knows a doctor there, from his studies during his time at Cornell, who has offered to treat Rhea during the next few years - Carlisle Cullen. As she treks across the continental US from Ithaca, New York, Rhea can't shake the feeling something has followed her to Alaska and haunts the night while she sleeps.Timeline: Takes place roughly ten years after the events of 'New Moon'.
Relationships: Alice Cullen/Jasper Hale, Carlisle Cullen/Esme Cullen, Edward Cullen/Bella Swan, Emmett Cullen/Rosalie Hale, Jacob Black/Renesmee Cullen, Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Disclaimer

Hey there all, thank you for your interest in reading _‘Reaper’s Toil’._ This has been an idea long in the making and something I think a lot of you may be interested in reading, especially if you’re looking for a more Adult take on the Twilight universe. However, with that said, there will be some plotlines or mentioned background for several characters that may trigger some people, so I feel it’d be better to address a content warning now rather than later.

If you are not comfortable reading about the following topics, this story may not be for you. Some of these warnings are background plots and are no more than mentions every now and again, with the occasional backstory. If there is a chapter that delves deeper into this content, there will be a warning at the start of the chapter. Here are the following topics: _cancer, death, untreatable disease, ectopic pregnancy, miscarriage, surgery, animal death, hunting, blood, gore, NSFW (not-suitable-for-work) content, and more._

This list may be added onto from time and time, and this list does _not_ include already canon-mentioned backstories of characters that may appear. This list is simply what you may have in addition to any content warnings the original Twilight books may have.

With that said, please enjoy the story, and if you have any questions about possible content, please feel free to comment below on this ‘chapter’ and I’ll be able to answer when I can!


	2. CHAPTER ONE

##  **CHAPTER ONE**

For someone who had been so set on remaining in Ithaca, New York my entire life, it was still a surprise when I blurted out, _“I’m moving to Alaska,”_ during one ill-fated dinner I had with my brother and his wife.

They looked at me as if I’d grown a second head—and maybe I had for what a _brilliant_ idea moving to Alaska would be—remaining speechless until desert. I didn’t expect their silence, after all it was my _brother’s_ idea to contact one of his old Cornell professors and ask if he’d become one of my primary doctors for the next few years. He was a brilliant man from what my brother’s said, but unfortunately, he was no longer in Ithaca, having moved to Alaska with his family. Still, after everything, moving would offer a new start for me—after all the fresh hell the last few years have buried me in.

“You sure you don’t want someone to come with you?” my brother’s wife—Olivia—asked about a week ago. She’s a gorgeous woman with strawberry blonde hair, natural if you can believe it, with a gentle tan to her skin and the creamiest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. She’s the complete opposite of my brother—black-haired, pale Irish skin, and blue eyes like cloud-filled skies. “Darius and I can figure something out. I’m sure Alaska could use one of New York’s most talented cardiologists, and I can start teaching again.”

“No, no,” I had given her a shake of my head. “You two should remain here. You love the city and I know you can make use of the house.”

“It’ll be too quiet without you.”

“Hopefully it won’t be quiet for too much longer.” I told her, offering a knowing wink.

Olivia’s cheeks heated, and she didn’t say anything more. I knew the both of them didn’t like to discuss _certain_ topics around me because of my past, but they need to live their life. I’d rather them be happy building their family rather than have one, or the both of them, looking after me for the next year or two during my treatments. Still… I’d miss them.

I’d have one last, good elk hunt with my brother before Alaska and that’ll be our little bonding time as brother and sister, hunter and hunter.

“Are we going to catch a nice buck this time?” he asks, securing the last few tarps and braces to the back of my 1500 Ram. He slammed the back of the truck with a heavy _clank._

Sliding the last few bits of supplies into the back of my Durango, I flashed my brother a toothy smile. _“I’m_ going to catch the big buck, but you’re going to help me track it,” I tell him.

“Rigghhtttt.” He rolls his eyes, but the smirk never leaves. “Maybe I’ll just let you track, kill, and clean it. Then I’ll cook?”

I let loose a bark of laughter. “I’ll be alright with that.” I point toward my white Ram. “You all ready to drive that thing three thousand miles?”

Darius scoffs. “After the cross-country trips to California and then back? I’m _so_ ready. Plus, if we follow our schedule, we’ll have a few extra days before my flight and we can look around Ketchikan together.”

“You don’t need to do that. You may need to get back as soon as you can. I don’t think your hospital could afford to lose you for over two weeks.”

“I know, but you’re my sister. I love you, and I want you to be safe. And happy.”

“Thank you, Dare.”

My brother’s icy eyes trail off, toward the road to our house I’d suspect, as the sound of tires on asphalt cuts away the quiet of nature.

We both turn, and a familiar Fusion pulls up. Its rims are dirtied, but the white paint is as pristine as ever.

My stomach drops, and I turn away with a scowl.

_Fuck. Today of all days?_

“Why is _he_ here?” I hear my brother growl. His arms are crossed, and he’s glaring at the car as it pulls closer. I meet his eyes a moment later, and he tilts a thick brow high in my direction. “Want me to get rid of him for you?”

I sigh. “No, I’ll take care of it.” _He needs to stop solving my problems for me._ “Mind grabbing my last few bags though?”

Darius nods, turning on his heel and working his way back to the house—the three-story, newly renovated home I inherited from our grandparents, and then signed over to him. I see Olivia watching from one of the windows, and she gives me a wave the moment she notices I spotted her.

Behind me, the engine of the white Fusion cuts off and two doors slide open.

“Ray-Ray!” a squeaky voice calls out in glee, and I don’t need to turn around to know who the sudden rush of feet belong to. Tiny hands clasp around one of my legs, as tight as a child’s arms can muster.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath to steady my nerves, and finally offer a too-practiced smile to the littlest boy clutching my left leg. “Hi there, Theo,” I say.

 _Theo_ is a relatively bright—but small—three-year-old boy. He’s cute, and smiles at me with the widest of grins, but each time I look at him, my stomach lurches in discomfort.

 _He should’ve been mine._ I try to shake the thought away, but it’s too hard. It’s far too difficult to look into Theo’s dark eyes and wish they were green, to look at his coal-colored hair and wish it was auburn like mine. Or maybe, if things worked out, I would’ve been okay with his hair being black.

“He wanted to say good-bye.”

I jerk my head up, and my practiced smile almost waivers. However, my heart hiccups again—and not in a good way. Instead, it feels like someone is holding it tight in a cold, iron grip.

The man before me could as well be an older version of Theo; black-as-black eyes, same dark hair, same facial shape. The only difference were the subtle changes in their skin tone. Theo’s skin was a bit darker than his father’s—clearly a trait he inherited from his mother.

“Hello Rhea,” Theo’s father says.

“Hello Leone,” I deadpan. “You could’ve just called.”

Leone’s brows furrow and his lips purse tightly. “Would you have answered?”

 _Probably not._ “Maybe.”

“Ray-Ray, daddy says that you’re moving far away!” Theo deduces.

“That’s correct.” I give the little boy a nod.

“But _whyyyyyyy?”_

_Because Ithaca has been nothing but bad luck my whole life? Because your father is a selfish, greedy man and left me when I needed him the most? Because I’m sick and I only have a few years to live?_

“I was offered a job out there,” I say at last. “Plus, they have the best places to catch salmon and the most gorgeous forests in the world.”

Theo scrunches his face up in displeasure, sticking out his tongue. “Ew, fish!”

“Yes, and they’ll jump right into your boat and kiss you on the nose!” I lean down and brush Theo’s nose with the tip of my finger.

“I don’t wanna get kissed by a fish! That’s gross!”

“Well, did you know that fish only try to kiss you if you haven’t been brushing your teeth? Say, have you been brushing your teeth correctly, Theo?”

The little boy’s face pales. “Y-yes?”

“No,” says Leone, with a smirk.

I _tsk._ “See, the fish can tell, Theo. You don’t want them to kiss you, do you?”

“No!” Theo shakes his head vehemently.

“Then you better wash your teeth well.”

Theo gives a jerky bob of a nod. “Okay, every night.”

“Every morning _and_ night.”

“But –”

I tilt my head toward the sounds of bubbling water off to my left—where the small pond I built is—where the water rushes over the edge of a short waterfall. “Oh, Theo, I think some of the fishes can hear you. They’re getting restless in the pond.”

“No!” Theo grips my leg harder. “I don’t want them to know I’m here!”

Patting his soft, downy-like hair, I smile. “Well, here’s a thing. Maybe I can speak with the fishes. Maybe they’ll leave you alone if you _promise_ to brush your teeth, put your clothes in the hamper, and behave for both of your parents. How about that?”

Theo tucks his head against the bags of my leggings. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

I lower my hand out, all my fingers tucked against my palm except my pinky finger. As Theo watches me tentatively, I smile. “Pinky swear?”

He offers his own, tiny and light copper compared to my own. “Pinky swear,” he parrots and wraps his around mine.

Chuckling, I ruffle his mess of hair. “Good good, now, can you give your daddy and I a minute alone? Go wait in the car, yes?”

As if thinking about kissing fish wasn’t so scary anymore, Theo suddenly lights up. The deep color of his eyes looks more like chocolate now than deep coals. “Okay! Daddy promised me ice cream anyway. I want chocolate, and strawberry, and cake pieces!” He bounds off toward the white Fusion, waving to me as he rushes off. “Bye Ray-Ray!”

I wave back with my too-familiar smile, but the moment Theo ducks into the car, the smile vanishes and my eyes settle on Leone. My voice is no better than a hiss this time. “Why did you come here, Leone?”

Theo’s father shuffles nervously. “You know you can call me Leo, like you used to. And I already said—Theo wanted to say goodbye.”

“No, I want the _real_ reason you came here, _Leone,”_ I snap. “I’m leaving today, and you decide this is the perfect time to have _your_ son say goodbye? Tell me why.”

Leone sighs. “I want this behind us. I would love to know why you won’t just forgive me.”

 _“Forgive you?”_ I mimic, scoffing loudly to his audacity. “I don’t have to forgive you.”

“Rhea, look, we both know the last few years have been hell, for the both of us. Why can’t we just get past everything that happened and get on with our lives?”

“See Leone, the thing is, I was already planning on getting on with my life _before_ you came to talk to me. I would’ve just told you to fuck right off had you not brought Theo with you. Fucking A+ with that, by the way, making me put on a smile for your son.” My eyes narrow, zeroing in on how uncomfortable my words are making him. “Speaking of, did his mother finally allow you to take him this weekend, or was that part of the custody agreement?”

Leone flinches.

_Bingo._

“I-it’s not like that,” he says.

“Then explain it to me.” I wave my hand between us sharply. “Because I was happy without you here for the last three years.” _I don’t need a constant reminder of what I lost._

“You and I both know we were growing apart.”

“Growing… _apart?”_ I bawk at him, right before the levee breaks. _“You_ were the one who left me standing at the altar. _You_ were the one who got a woman pregnant while you were engaged to me. _You_ decided marrying me wasn’t worth the effort, and instead took the easy way out. Do not tell me that we were growing apart, because you were the one to break my heart into a million pieces.

“Is that why you’re here, Leone? To stroke your precious ego? To try to get me to accept an apology you never planned to give in the first place?

“You’re not here for me or your son. You’re here for yourself—to make yourself feel better about the shit you left behind.” I don’t realize I’m up in Leone’s face until I can visibly feel the vein in his forehead pulse, or the hard gritting of his teeth as he clamps his jaw tight.

“Everything alright here?” I heard Darius speak up from behind me.

 _Oh, thank you._ I take a deep breath and lean away from Leone’s reddened face, stepping back until my legs hit the bumper of my Durango. “Yes, everything’s fine,” I say as Darius hoists my last bag into the back of my car and closes the trunk. “Leone was just leaving.”

“Wonderful timing,” Darius adds gruffly. “That’s the last of the bags. We should be good to go now.”

Leone blinks, looking between Darius and I. His shoulders tremble and his fists are clenched tightly. A moment passes in silence before he finally nods his head. “I understand,” he whispers. “Goodbye, Rhea.”

Without another word, he turns and enters his car. Darius and I watch as the engine kicks on, and Leone pulls the car away, back down the drive in which he came. _And to think he had the dumbest idea that I would forgive him for everything he –_

I startle as Darius’s hand settles on my shoulder. He allows me a moment of calm. “Are you good?” he asks. “Do you need a few minutes before we go?”

For a moment, I contemplate it. Maybe a minute or two wouldn’t be too bad. But then the minute or two would become five or ten. Then thirty to sixty. _No._

“I’m okay,” I finally say.

I’m glad my brother leaves it at that, because the moment I climb into my Durango and let the engine roar with a start, an uncomfortable tear rolls down my cheek.

###

“You’ve been quiet.”

“Hmm?” Looking up from the tracks, I meet Darius’s narrowed eyes. He watches me studiously, as if waiting for something precious and vulnerable to shatter. “Oh, yeah, I guess I’ve been quiet,” I relent then. “Just a lot on my mind.”

“Of course, but maybe just focus on the hunt right now?” he suggests.

I chuckle. Focusing on the hunt is enough. I’m happy he knocked me from my stupor, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have been to notice the subtle hoof tracks across the dry, compacted land.

At first, the tracks look like they only belong to one animal—a small elk cow from the size of the hooves—but on a closer look, those are only the freshest tracks. There are other tracks there, all elk (maybe one or two coyote, but those aren’t as fresh), all heading up the mountain into the trees. One of them, three times the size of the smallest track, looks promising.

“Find anything interesting?” Darius asks.

I straighten and throw him a smile. “Looks like we may have found one bull. There’s one pair of tracks here bigger than the rest.”

“Could just be a very large cow.”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “Still, worth checking it out.”

“And maybe climb a tree or two.” Darius throws a wink my way.

I laugh, a sound almost as bright as singing birds. “You know me too well.”

The path we travel takes us two hours through the mountains of Montana, well into the morning. Out here—away from civilization, roads, and other hunters daring not to take the dangerous hills—wildlife has flourished.

Deer race across the hills and valley, birds clamor as they flutter overhead, the bugle of elk calling me and my brother forward, and the trees around us so tall and grand we almost feel as miniscule as ants here. The path we take is not often taken, save only for the bravest of hunters searching for the kings of beasts.

Soon enough, the elk bugling draws closer and closer, and our path slopes toward a large valley and lake below, but the view mostly covered by the canopies of close-knit trees around the slopes of the mountainside.

“I thought I saw something moving between the trees below, but I can’t get a good look.” Darius sighs. “And I don’t see any good place where we can get down easily without hurting ourselves.”

Glancing about, I know immediately Darius is right. The side of the mountain is so steep here, I doubt we’d be able to get down without twisting—or worse, breaking—something. Would we even know the journey down to be worth it? We hear the elk, yes, but we don’t see them. They may not even be in the valley. Still…

I look up at the closest tree, a rather sturdy oak reaching well over one hundred feet in the air and covered with many different types of branches. “Hold this.” I hand my bow over to Darius, dump my bag onto the ground, and begin to hoist myself up the tree.

Taking my time, I test my weight on the first branch. I climb slowly— _carefully—_ up through the tree until the valley becomes partially visible below. I pull my binoculars from around my neck and gaze below. The crystal blue of the lake contrasts against the green valley and pines. Amongst them are a few more elk cows—and one _large buck._ The largest I’ve seen in years, and from the width of his antlers I had to guess they were _at least_ three hundred inches.

_Found him._

Smiling wide, I sweep back, lowering the binoculars from my eyes and returning to my normal sight. Something catches at the corner of my eye, something hidden in the distant trees toward the top of the mountain we haven’t yet traveled.

It looks like a bird at first, but it _can’t_ be. It’s far too big.

It can’t be a bear; it’s up too high, and it’s far too lean to be one either.

What could it be then?

Raising my binoculars, I try to focus on the object in the distant.

My heart almost leaps from my chest at what I see.

A _man._

No, it can’t be. He’s too impossibly high in the tree he’s perched in, and his _bare_ feet smoothly teeter right on the edge of a skinny branch. He holds a branch over his head as if to keep his balance, but even this man’s bravery—or more aptly, _stupidity—_ is marveling.

He doesn’t look like a hunter either. Though his bare feet are a dead giveaway, he isn’t wearing camouflage or other hunter’s garb. A well-worn jacket hangs around his torso with elk fur lining his shoulders. The arms of the jacket have been ripped away, leaving the man’s alabaster skin free to feel the cool, early spring air.

How he isn’t freezing is beyond me.

And his face— _oh,_ his face—if my heart wasn’t already in my throat, it would be now. He stands absolutely still, like the Classical Period sculptures of Ancient Greece, immortalized in stone and free in action, poised as if he’s looking down to pinpoint one of the elk to track.

Part of his head, at least what I can see, is shaved away. Braids fall down from the middle of his head, well past his shoulders and over the fur lining his neck. His eyes are an unusual color too—not quite hazel, or would bronze be more appropriate? A rich, deep amber. His cheekbones are sharp enough I think I’d cut my hand on them if I touched his face, and his brow-line is even sharper.

The man could’ve been a sculpture, meant to trick hunters like us from traveling too far north in search for the best prey, or maybe he’s something entirely new. People living in seclusion isn’t a new thing, but the people I’ve met don’t look like _him._

A breeze brushes over my back, tussling in my hair.

The man in the tree suddenly stiffens, his golden-amber eyes flicking in my direction.

My heart sets off to a racing beat.

_Not a statue._

A moment passes where the two of us are just staring at each other before the man takes a deep inhale, tilts his head to the side, and smiles a wide, toothy grin.

“Rhea! What did you find?” Darius shouts from below and I startle.

The binoculars drop from my hands, but luckily only hit my chest thanks to the fabric holding it around my neck.

“Did you find a buck?” Darius calls up.

“Uh, yeah, one sec!” I call back down. Scrambling, I lift my binoculars back up and scan the tree where the man had been perched—but he’s gone, as if he had never been there to begin with.

###

There had been no sign of the man again, but Darius and I did walk away from the hunt with a wonderful three-hundred-and-sixty inch buck.

With the sun setting on our long trek back to the cars, I couldn’t help but look back at the mountains and trees. The man in the woods could’ve been a trick of my mind, some weird hallucination from my accumulated love of the woods, sculpture, and the unknown.

The trip back to our rented house was quiet, the night even more so as Darius threw a couple of seasoned backstrap steaks onto the grill while I got to cleaning up the parts we were able to stow away. All the parts would be thrown into the freezer and then iced for the rest of the journey, and I’d have meat for an entire year.

Darius cleaned the plates from dinner while I continued cutting up the last elk hind leg. “Don’t be up too much longer, ‘kay?” he says. He gestures toward his face, then points to mine. “I noticed you looked a bit thinner today.”

“Was that why you gave me the bigger steak and a majority of the vegetables?” I teased.

He scoffs. “Maybe. Plus, can’t I treat my sister?”

“You can always treat me, but sometimes I just don’t have the biggest appetite.”

Darius grumbles. “You know what I’m going to say about that, so I’m not,” he says. “Just, go to bed at a reasonable hour, okay?”

“Aye aye, Doctor D!” I salute. “Right after I finish packing all this meat in the freezer.”

My brother retreats to his room then, wishing me well for the night and leaving me with only silence as my company—just the way I like it.

By the time I finish with the meat, wrap it, and store it, the clock already reads _10pm._

_Damn._

After I clean the kitchen, I finish up in the bathroom, showering down and washing my face. Just one look in the mirror and I understand now what Darius meant when he said I looked thinner.

The skin of my face is paler than normal, stretched think over my bony cheeks. My eyes are slightly sunken, with the area right beneath my eyes dark with purple. Funny, I hadn’t changed anything from my routine this entire week, yet it looks like I haven’t eaten in days.

I tear myself away from the bathroom mirror, desperate to lose myself in pleasant dreams and darkness. That isn’t what I find though; only restlessness finds me, nightmares of shadowy figures standing in the corners of my room—watching, waiting.

Most illusions I know—flashes of black and red.

But one stands out amongst the rest; whenever I blink and look towards it, it vanishes as if it wasn’t even there to begin with.

Sighing, I let my head hit the pillow.


	3. CHAPTER TWO

##  **CHAPTER TWO**

“This… isn’t half bad.” I hear Darius comment as he helps me with the first round of moving.

My new, _little_ apartment is a one-bedroom, one-bath flat. Not quite what either of us are used to thanks to Ithaca, but it’s enough for me here and now. I don’t have animals to look after, I don’t have space for a studio and all its heavy equipment—I don’t have a life left to live. So, I brought what little I needed. The only things I couldn’t let go of were my two cars—the Durango and the Ram.

I throw a smirk in Darius’s direction. “I know what you’re thinking,” I say. “You hate it.”

The walls are flat wood that have been painted over and over again to hide the color of the wood from underneath. Now, it’s chipping away, leaving the floor dusted in flecks of paint.

Darius deposits the first box on the spring-loaded mattress. “You’re right. I absolutely hate it,” he admits. He pokes at the mattress with a finger. “You shouldn’t be sleeping on this, you know. Who knows what kinds of insects live in it.”

“It doesn’t have bed bugs.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll check it and everything.”

“You know, I could buy you a house much nicer than this. _You_ could buy yourself a house much nicer than this.”

“I don’t need a house.”

“No, but you need a place that’ll compliment you, not this cheap rental.” He sighs. “I’m going to talk to Olivia about moving here so we can be with you.”

I scowl, turning fully to my brother. “Please let’s not fight about this. I don’t want you to be here.” _I don’t want you to see me die._ “You both have a life in Ithaca, a house, and all the animals you’ll need.”

“Yeah, but I won’t have my sister.” Darius reaches forward and takes my hands in his. He’s all warmth and care. “Apart from Olivia, you’re all I have left. Grandma and Grandpa are gone now, Mom and Dad have been out of our life for years. I don’t want to wake up one day and have a message from Dr. Cullen asking me to call him.”

“You won’t get a call like that. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Good.” Darius leans forward and presses a quick kiss to my cheek. “When is your appointment with the doctor? Do we have time to take a tour around town?”

Smirking, I say, “I was able to get it moved to tomorrow morning. We can take a tour, but now you can’t delay your flight home.”

Darius chuckles. “Damn.”

###

“Hi there, I’m here to see Dr. Cullen?”

The nurse looks up from her counter, and offers a fake-smile. By the way her eyes widen and she scans me up and down, there’s more pity behind her grin than there is friendliness. “You’re his nine o’clock?” she asks.

I nod.

“Right.” The nurse rises and gestures toward the adjacent hall. “This way.”

Holding tight to my bag, I follow closely, careful to stick to her heels. The white walls are too bright for my eyes and the smell of sterilizing products stings my nose. The distant wail of a failing machine crawls up my spine like spidery legs.

I’ve always _hated_ hospitals.

“Right here,” the nurse directs, and I step into an examination office. Thankfully, this room is much quieter than the rest of the hospital. I’m thankful for it.

As I hop up on the examination table to wait for the doctor, the nurse shuts the door and locks me in the silence. Ever since coming to Alaska, I can finally breathe.

It’s like I am when I go hunting; I am just one, small speck of energy in a giant, interwoven web. I can pause, close my eyes, and listen. I can hear the call of the birds, the dripping of sap within each tree, the call of distant deer, and even the rustling of insects in the scattered leaves beneath my feet.

Here, it’s much the same. I shut my eyes, take a deep breath, and focus on all around me. I drown out the sterile beeping of heartbeat monitors, instead drawn to the patter of many feet and the flow of water from the stream outside the hospital.

A pair of feet, quieter and more calculated than the others, draws closer to the door.

My eyes flutter open. The doorknob twists, and I patiently wait for whomever is outside to step in.

Dr. Cullen?

The door opens and a man steps in, dressed in a long doctor’s coat, but he can’t be a doctor, can he? He barely looks older than me, and I’m about to hit thirty. If he is, he must be a prodigy then, and a good-looking one at that. His hair is the color of sunlight, his eyes are just as bright, and his face is free of any wrinkles or aging.

“I’m Dr. Cullen,” he introduces. He reaches forward, and the cold, smooth touch of his handshake takes me by surprise. His paleness shouldn’t; he lives in a part of the world where the sun doesn’t shine as bright. “It is a pleasure to put a face to the name, Dr. Mauk.”

“Please, just _Miss_ Mauk. I’m not a doctor—at least not a medical doctor,” I comment.

A small smile tugs at the edges of Dr. Cullen’s lips. “Alright, Miss Mauk. I just have a few questions about your medical history, if that’s alright.”

My brows furrow and lips purse in my confusion. “Did my previous doctors not forward over the information?”

“I’m afraid not.” He shakes his head.

“Shoot.” _What a waste of time._ “Okay, ask away.”

“Your age, height, and weight please.”

“Twenty-nine years old, five foot eleven inches, one hundred forty-five pounds, give or take.”

“Biological sex, your gender, eye color, nationality.”

“Female, female, green, Caucasian.”

Dr. Cullen continues scribbling down his notes. “Any previous surgeries?”

“Yes,” I swallow dryly. “Just one. Three years and nine months ago, to remove an ectopic pregnancy.”

Dr. Cullen pauses, the tip of his pen hovering over the notes in his hands. His golden eyes trail up for a just a moment. “Last menstrual cycle?”

“Four years ago,” I say.

“Hmm.” The doctor makes another note. “Any other notable medical histories in your family?”

“As far as I remember, my mother was diabetic, type two. My father had thyroid cancer and was on medication. My grandparents were both fine, no medical problems. My brother’s fine—he’s as healthy as a horse. Me, just the, uh, issues I already mentioned.”

“When were you diagnosed with glioblastoma?”

“Six months ago. I was only given two years, even with treatment.”

Dr. Cullen places his notes down on the closest table. “Alright, I’m going to take a few more notes and run a quick checkup before we continue.”

The checkup goes easily enough. I tried to ignore the coldness of the doctor’s hands, instead closing my eyes and focusing back on the Montana mountains. On the smell of the pine and oak, the bugling calls of the needy elk, the unusual man perched up in the trees. His skin had been almost the exact shade as Dr. Cullen’s. His eyes were close, but the doctor’s were much more yellow, more golden, while the mountain man’s looked like amber ringed with red.

If that was even possible.

Hallucinations were a common symptom of my problem.

“Are you available tomorrow, Miss Mauk?” Dr. Cullen asks. “I’d like to run a few more tests, including an MRI and CT scan.”

“I’m available, yes. What time?”

“How about nine am.”

“That’ll work perfectly.”

“Wonderful.” Dr. Cullen moves away and finishes his notes before he opens the door leading back into the hospital. The beeping of heartrate machines and chatty nurses is enough to raise my blood pressure. _This_ will be where I’ll end up once the cancer eats through my brain and organs. _This_ is where I will take my final breaths.

I sigh and my shoulders drop.

Dr. Cullen doesn’t seem to miss the gesture, but he ignores it and smiles instead. “Do you know your way out?” he asks, but my eyes are on the door and my mind lost in thought. _“Alice told me the vis—would—she left. Edward—be here—”_ The doctor clears his throat. “Miss Mauk?”

“Hmm?” I look up and meet Dr. Cullen’s eyes. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Do you know your way out?” he asks.

“I do, but I mean what you said after that.”

Dr. Cullen’s brows tightly furrow. “After what?”

“You said something after asking if I knew my way out. You mentioned a few people named Alice and Edward?”

The doctor is still. _“Impossible, she—read—does she—know—,”_ he says, but his lips don’t _move_ and static fills my head with every other word _._ He offers a gentle smile. “I didn’t say anything, Miss Mauk.”

I sigh. _Great, now I’m hearing voices. What a_ wonderful _new symptom._

“Sorry, I just thought—,” I say, pulling myself from the examination table and slinging my bag across my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow at nine, Dr. Cullen.”

“Have a good night, Miss Mauk,” Dr. Cullen says, but I slip out the door in a hurry and bank around the corner.

The nurses’ station is on the other side, and the head nurse is offering a too-wide, almost hypnotized smile toward a copper-haired man standing at the counter. His skin is as pale as Dr. Cullen’s, and if I didn’t know any better I’d think they were related in some way.

“He’ll be available in just a minute, Edward,” she says. “Thank you for waiting.”

 _“He’s so young—not appropriate to—my son’s age—,”_ The static voices begin.

The man at the counter smiles, but his teeth gleam. It’s almost predatory. “I don’t mind,” he suavely says, and then another static voice continues, _“Typical—she doesn’t—married—but I have to speak—visitor—”_

If I didn’t know any better, the invisible, static voice speaks _just_ like this Edward man.

 _I’m fucking nuts, I have to be._ I shake my head, grit my teeth, and push through. That’s when the static voices increase, both in volume and _pain._

The head nurse’s eyes zero in on me. _“Oh, the poor girl—can’t believe she—its good, Dr. Cullen will be—”_

I look away from her, right after the man-that-must-be-Edward—who looks more like a boy out of high school—glances in my direction, his eyes just as golden yellow as Dr. Cullen. _“She—even worse—Alice saw—”_ His eyes suddenly widen and his nostrils flare. _“Nose—blood—”_

His hand flashes, almost too fast for me to comprehend.

I flinch, but he’s holding a napkin between us.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he says.

I raise my hand, only to feel the warmth and wetness trickling down to my lip.

_Fuck, first the voices and now this?_

The man-called-Edward tilts his head to the side as I snatch the tissue from his hand and press it to my nose, but as my hand barely brushes his, the voices only crescendo.

_“—I’ll need—they won’t make it through—”_

_“—this baby—adorable—”_

_“—she’s not going—years—her poor family—”_

_“—her name—Rhea—”_

My eyes snap up toward the man-called-Edward, but he’s watching me like he’s studying something interesting. Except, the blood is still flowing from my nose, and the voices in my mind hammer against the inside of my skull until I can’t tell right from left and up from down. White and black dot my vision, but I shove past the man and the nurses.

“Honey, wait—!” someone calls, but I can’t tell if it’s a real person or one of the static voices.

 _“No!”_ I shout back instead, urging my feet to carry me down the hall like it’s a matter of life and death. For all I know, it could be.

They leave me be, and the moment I push past the hospital doors and enter into the Alaska air, so do the static voices. My head still pounds, but my nose has stopped bleeding.

My Durango is parked further down the lot, but I trudge away, driving back to my one-bedroom apartment like I’m escaping a scene right out of a nightmare.

I can taste blood in my throat, metallic and sour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, thanks for reading! I'd love to hear your comments and theories! Let me know what you think may happen in the story. ;)


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